"I'm almost frightened to ask, but what's got your stockings in a twist this evening, sweeting? Before I appeared, that is."
The glare she shot him was meant to quell, but it merely stoked his amusement. Not many in the ton realized there was quite a temper under that pretty exterior.
"If you insist on being vulgar, I shall leave."
"I don't insist on it, though it is more fun. Tell me, my lady," he replied, drawing out the emphasis on her title, grinning a little as she pressed her lips together. "Why such a look of discontent? You've a lavish gown, a wealthy duke in your near future, and the Upper Ten Thousand purring in your palm. What more could a girl possibly desire?"
On occasion, he liked to remind himself how very far out of his reach she was.
"Desire," Elle mused as she stared out over the immense stretch of grass, as if speaking to herself, and he straightened abruptly. The muscles of his stomach quivered at the sigh in her voice. "What an interesting choice of words."
Was this why she was out of sorts?
Because she desired his cousin and was impatient for her wedding eve? The thought made him a little sick. In theory, he had always known she belonged to Langley, but he could never make himself truly acknowledge what that meant.
Langley would be the one to peel back that dress, to touch her skin, to find out what made her cry out in pleasure. He would take her to evenings at the theater, wake up next to her in the mornings, and have summer afternoons with her. He would father her children.
Jacob rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, any amusement that had lingered now vanquished. "The direction this conversation has taken is not entirely appropriate. I'm sure your brothers would tell you that, were they here."
She cut him a glance, her lips curling into a small smile that he could not read.
"As my brothers hardly deal with any ladies, I'm not as certain as you are. Do not fret, Mr. Farrish. I'm merely commenting on your vocabulary, not planning a wild romp."
Oh, the images that flashed through his mind.
He let loose a long breath. "Be that as it may, I suggest you focus more on what sort of awe-inspiring piano pieces you'll be gracing us with at Langley's house party, and less on things that do not concern unmarried ladies."
It was a remarkably priggish attitude to take, and quite unlike him, but Jacob couldn't stop the words as they tumbled out. He didn't want to think about her thinking about Langley. It did all sorts of ugly things to his insides.
Elle swung around to face him, her fine blonde brows drawn together in a scowl. "How like you to slap me down just for being curious. It's that summer at Hadley Hall all over again."
"I hardly think we can compare you sneaking around after Langley and me when we were children to your musings on what goes on behind the bedroom door," Jacob drawled, daring her not to blush. She did not disappoint. The flush started at the base of her throat, and worked its way up to her cheeks to tinge them a deep rose.
"I'm merely pointing out that every time I wanted to explore a little, you had to step in and squash my intentions," she snapped, and stepped forward to invade his personal space. "Whether it's following you as a child to your secret fort, or wondering as a woman what it might be like to be kissed with passion, you always have to ruin my fun."
"I'm ruining your fun? What does my cousin say to all this?"
The scent of her, warm vanilla and flowers, taunted Jacob as he stepped away, determined not to cross that final line between foolish and fatally reckless.
"Pish." Elle waved a hand, her smile sharp and unhappy enough to cause his chest to ache. "If Langley ever manages to work himself up to kiss me, I hardly think it would be with passion."
Langley hadn't kissed her.
What the hell was wrong with the man?
If she belonged to Jacob, he'd never stop kissing her.
Looking at Elle standing against the golden glow of the lamplight, her ruffled gown slipping down one shoulder a bit, Jacob knew that without a doubt she was the single most dangerous threat to his comfortable existence. He could not continue to bait and tease her, or even to spend time in her company, without the inevitable loss of everything he valued.
The Duke of Langley had promised his support in Jacob's pursuit of an appointment as counsel in the King's Court. And not only did he hold Jacob's future in one hand, the other held his annual allowance. If Jacob allowed himself to act on his feelings for Elle, he could very well find himself without a family, a home, any expectation of financial security, and a future as a barrister.
It had to stop now.
He schooled his expression into cool civility and straightened from the balustrade, shutting away any warm affection for her behind steel walls.
"I think we've dawdled out here long enough to strain your reputation, Lady Eleanore. My cousin requested that I keep you company in his stead, not start a scandal," he said with a careless air, affecting a bored expression. "Let us return to the ballroom. I'm sure your other dance partners have been searching for you."
She opened her mouth, surely to argue, because there was nothing more Elle seemed to love than to argue with him, but he cut her off. "I do have other places to be this evening, my lady. I cannot stand around, chatting with virgins about their lack of kisses all night."
Elle pressed her lips together, a flash of hurt in her blue eyes as she turned away, but he did not apologize for his harsh words. She hardly allowed him to touch her elbow as he escorted her back to the ballroom, and would not even grace him with a look or murmured "goodnight" as she walked off into the crowd.
Which was exactly how he wanted it. How it should be.
How it must be.
Chapter Two
The next morning dawned bright and clear, the morning sun ushering in chaos as the Barnaby household began packing for the first house party of the Season. Elle had awoken in a bad temper, due to one infuriating Jacob Farrish the evening before, but she was determined to throw it off.
House parties were always a source of grand entertainment, and she planned to squeeze every last bit of fun from this one, as it was her last as an unmarried woman.
"Julia, have you seen my green walking dress? The one with the yellow lace?" Elle picked through the pile of gowns laid out on the bed ready to be carefully packed away for the two day trip to the duke's northernmost estate, situated only a few day's ride from Scotland. "I cannot find it."
Her maid looked up from where she was folding hair ribbons into a paper packet. "I believe that the laundry girl still has it. She had a bit of a time removing the mud stains from when it was last worn."
"Oh, drat. I was going to wear that today."
"How about the rose one instead?" Julia left the ribbons to bustle over and remove a gown from the top of the pile, shaking the wrinkles from it as she held it up. "The light blue trimming looks lovely with your eyes, and you could wear your new bonnet."
The rose dress did look well on her, and Elle had been itching for an excuse to don her newest bonnet. Perhaps it would help boost her mood. "An acceptable alternative. Thank you, Julia."
The girl returned her smile with a shy one of her own. "Of course, my lady. 'Tis what I am here for."
Elle slipped into the dress, then sat to have her hair put up. As Julia carefully divided the locks into sections for braiding, Elle resisted the urge to fidget. This was her least favorite part of the day. She enjoyed looking fashionable, but patience was not a talent born to her. Well aware of her mistress's lack of forbearance, the maid was done in a jiff, and scurrying out the door to locate the favorite green walking dress.
To avoid the confusion of packing, Elle escaped to the breakfast room, where most of the family had chosen to hide while the household rushed from one room to another. She strolled in and picked up a plate at the sideboard, picking through the ham for a piece with the least amount of fat. The gelatinous texture when she encountered a bit of it gave her the shudders.
She glanced around. "Wher
e's Papa this morning?"
The marquess's place at the head of the table was empty, but then most days it was. He was a busy man, not usually given much to socializing with the family. She directed her question to the room at large, as she sat down next to her older brother Alex.
"Meeting with the factor, though he mentioned he'd attempt to be here to see you off." He folded a triangle of toast around a chunk of ham and scoop of eggs, managing to neatly wedge it all in his mouth without dribbling a crumb onto his cravat. Elle shook her head in amusement as she slathered a thin layer of marmalade on her toast. It was simply astounding how much food her brothers could put away and yet never gain an ounce.
The rats.
"Are you sure you won't come to Brookdale Park, Alexander?" Mama sipped her tea, a faint frown marking her brow. Even at the advanced age of forty-five, Mama was still one of the most beautiful women that Elle had ever seen. Her figure was girlish and not a streak of gray dared to mark the gold curls so like her daughter's. "I'm sure there will be fishing and hunts, never mind that you should be there to support your sister and Langley. It's too bad your father's business will keep him in London."
Elle noticed a warmth in her mother’s gaze as she spoke of her father. It was there more and more lately.
She kicked her eldest brother under the table, wondering if he had noticed the changes. He jerked in his chair, shooting her a look of irritation.
"Ellie doesn't need my support." Alex cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, out of reach of her toes, his plate devoid of even a shred of ham. He raised one brow in jest. "She's the princess of the ton. She'll be so busy, she wouldn't even know I was there. Would you, Peaches?"
Elle sent him a bright smile and fluttered her lashes. "I promise I will not miss you even a moment, should you stay in London."
Alex snorted, but Mama narrowed her eyes across the table at them. "That is not helpful in the least, Eleanore."
"I apologize, Mama. And I, too, am sorry Papa won't be joining us." Elle's voice was breezy as she removed the fatty edges from her ham with the sort of precision that would do the royal surgeon proud. Suddenly she experienced a renewed sense of hope. If her parents had come to love one another, perhaps she could make the duke love her too. She did have the pendant, after all.
She glanced over at Peter, forever stuck between his siblings as they squabbled. He had been silent during their exchange, never once looking up from his newspaper. "And you, Peter? Will you be staying in London with Alex or coming to the duke's with me?"
His gaze still on the paper in front of him, he reached out for his tea. "Neither. I'm off to Scotland to visit Grandfather."
Mama sighed and Alex groaned, but Elle just blinked, the bit of egg on her fork forgotten halfway to her mouth.
Grandfather hadn't spoken to any of them in years, not since Father decided that the Highlands were too far north to summer and bought Huntington Manor in Devon instead. Extremely offended, Grandfather had sent Mama a scathing letter about abandoning her heritage or some such thing.
"I had no idea that you and Grandfather were in contact." Elle set down her fork carefully. She missed him. Missed how he always ignored Papa's disapproval, taking Elle and the boys with him fishing. How he always smelled of peppermints. How he had always listened and asked for her opinion, and acted as though it held value.
He had been the only adult in her life to ever do so.
Peter glanced up, his unreadable gaze connecting with Elle's. "I did not say we were in contact."
Nonplussed, she said no more as he checked his pocket watch and rose from the table. Alex glared at his younger brother as he made his way to the door.
"Abandoning me to the whims of London society while you run off to play Highlander?"
"You don't need me anymore than Elle needs you."
Mama rose from the breakfast table as well. "Well, I need all three of you back together and here in London by the end of the summer." There was no hint of compromise on her face and Elle almost felt pity for her brothers. Almost. "You will be here to attend the festivities the week before your sister's wedding. Each and every one of them."
Alex flinched and Peter sighed, looking resigned. Elle bit the inside of her cheek to avoid laughing at their pained expressions as Mama swept out of the room.
"Give Grandfather my best, would you?"
"Of course. Have fun at Brookdale."
Elle raised her eyebrow, ignoring the tightness in her chest at the thought of the week ahead trying to win her future husband's affections. Not to mention trying to avoid his attractive and bothersome cousin.
"When have I not managed to enjoy myself?" she said.
"True." He tipped his head in concession. "Brother. Stay out of trouble."
Alex just grunted, obviously still annoyed that his younger brother was heading north instead of staying in London to carouse with him. Peter's lips twisted in a faint smile and he slipped out of the room, leaving Elle and Alex alone. She turned in her seat to regard him.
"Tell me the true reason you aren't coming to the party."
"How do you know it isn't the one I gave?"
"Oh, because I know you. You couldn't care less if I noticed you were there or not."
Alex lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "The real reason is not fit for little, unmarried ears."
Ahh. He was mistress hunting, then.
Her brothers thought she did not know their rakish habits, but Elle was no fool. She had listened at more than one keyhole over the years. Well, how else could a girl become informed on the true nature of men?
Even the duke's rakish cousin had been knocked off balance the evening before by her admittance that she had thought about passion more than once. He had tried to hide it, but she had seen the shock that slid through his eyes at her words. In truth, Elle had no intention of sharing such a thing with him, but he had made her so mad, and it had just popped out before she even realized what she was doing.
For a moment, she had thought he was going to volunteer to rectify her lack of kisses, and for a moment, she feared she might let him.
Her heart thumped hard enough to knock her breath away. Elle scraped back her chair, the legs dragging on the wooden floor with a dull screech, startling Alex into bobbling his teacup. "I... I need to supervise Julia's packing. I'll see you when I return."
She escaped before he could comment, fingering the gypsy pendant around her neck as she hurried up the stairs. She was betrothed to Langley and not free to wonder about other men's kisses. Especially the kisses of men like Jacob, whose reputation with the widows preceded him. Perhaps if the duke would just blasted kiss her already, she'd be able to stop speculating on whether Jacob's coppery hair was as soft to touch as it looked.
Her dear friend Lady Alison Griffith was in the way of being a scientist, or as much as any lady of the ton ever could be, and was always going on about field tests and such. Elle just knew her friend would advise her that her theory about her betrothed must be proven out, in a controlled environment. Well, Langley's house party could be considered such a situation, and perhaps an experiment was in order.
She would kiss the duke, and if she did it right, it would put all thoughts of other men from her mind forever.
Even that infuriating Jacob Farrish.
"You must be joking."
Jacob stared at his cousin, wondering when the man had gone mad. He picked up the brandy that had been poured for him and threw it back in one swallow, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat.
His gaze searched the duke's face, but saw no hint that his cousin was indeed playing a prank. "Do I look like a wedding liaison, Langley? What exactly do you expect I do? I'm a man of the law, not some society fribble."
He could not do as his cousin asked, not after promising himself the night of the Hastings' ball that he'd steer clear of Elle from there on out.
"As your most ardent supporter, monetarily and socially, I expect a bit of reciprocity. I expect you
to take charge of things that vex me." The duke looked unconcerned as he leaned back in his chair and swirled the liquor in his own glass before taking a swallow. "This wedding vexes me. Correction: my mother and Lady St. Aidans are plaguing, hounding, and haranguing me, attempting to drag me into every tiny decision."
"I am not in charge of dealing with things that vex you. I did not study for years to become a barrister so I could chase away people who pester you. We are no longer children, Langley. You must learn to fend for yourself at some point."
The duke continued as if he had not heard Jacob's strident protest. "Do you think it matters to me if Eleanore wears cream or robin's egg blue? Or if the long tables are decorated with lilies or roses? It does not. I do not care in the least."
"And I do?"
Jacob loved his cousin, which was the reason he hadn't punched him in the face years ago. Langley could be an arrogant pain in the arse, but really, this was too much. The man was attempting to fob off his betrothed and his wedding responsibilities onto Jacob because they were an annoyance. It was one thing to step in now and then to give his cousin a small amount of freedom, as Langley didn't often have any at all, but what he was proposing was something different altogether.
While the idea of spending the entire house party by Elle's side was exhilarating, Jacob also knew it would be dangerous beyond measure.
"You will get paid to care about such things, cousin." Langley lifted his eyebrows, his gaze lit with arrogant amusement. "I will grant you one thousand pounds if you take over my wedding duties. I will also provide an open purse with which to please the ladies in their furor over flowers and lace. Just keep my betrothed occupied and happy, and out of my way."
Holy hell, Langley was offering him a bribe. Unbelievable. "You must truly be desperate."
"I am." His cousin's feverish reply almost made Jacob laugh, but the thought of a thousand pounds gave him pause.
It would go a long way in setting him up toward his ultimate goal of a royal court appointment. The rise of a Scottish-born barrister to King's Court, even one who was cousin to one of the most powerful dukes in England, was not easy. It made no difference in the eyes of most peers that Jacob had never even lived in Scotland, but had been raised in London and on Langley's country estates. It was money that would ease his way, and give him a respectable appearance while he wooed various lords who might be of help to him.
The Heart of a Duke Page 3
